No Man Left Behind part 8

There are those who would say that it's nice to get some alone time every once in a while. Free of distraction and having nothing but their own thoughts as company.  For most, that might be the case. However, after countless years of it, one eventually grows sick of hearing his own voice.

The jester had been kept in his new prison for at least two days. Two days of pitch black and deathly silence. One does not spend that much time in solitude without being able to estimate how much time passes by sheer sensation alone. His experience at the Cheydinhal sanctuary left a huge imprint on Cicero. The loneness was not easy for a man who had always been surrounded by those he called 'family'. They were all dead, and the silence began to slowly drive him mad. The Keeper had been released of his solitude when he was mercifully granted a friend from the Void.

The jester's laughter had been deafening, breaking the serenity of his mind. Laughter, jokes and songs of heroes and silly men never seemed to end. The voice was so loud that Cicero was not even given a moment's peace to rest. This led to him suffering from insomnia, making sleeping next to impossible. Over time, he and the merry man became one. Then there was no one laughing but the Fool of Hearts himself. Sithis was not as kind to him now as he had been in the past. There was no laughter and no friendly voices to keep him company this time.

Even now, the Fool of Hearts bore mental scars from his extended period of being trapped in the old sanctuary he had once called home. The home became a prison, and the lack of human interaction and contact took a toll on his psyche. To present day, the Keeper could never stand being by himself for much longer than a few hours. He also sometimes experienced fits of claustrophobia. Dark and tightly enclosed places were avoided if at all possible.

Cicero sometimes was not even sure if he was being guarded. No one ever answered his cries; he never even heard so much as a cough. It made no difference if he was being watched or not. The slab of stone above him was far too heavy to move on his own, even if he had been at full strength.

The jester's stomach rumbled in despair. Gradually his body had begun to eat away at his muscles, seeking energy to keep the fool functioning. 'At least someone's being fed', Cicero had thought to himself bitterly.

To try and distract himself from his predicament, the Keeper began to repeatedly recite the ancient incantations that had been scribed in the Keeping Tomes. Over and over he spoke the words, but that just led to his mouth becoming dry. His throat burned as it longed for the cool refreshing sensation of drink. Being deprived of food, water and human contact is a terrible thing for any one person to bear.

The Imperial knew that it was going only be a matter of time before his fears would get the best of him. Panicking would lead to a complete mental breakdown and possible betrayal of the Dark Brotherhood. How Cicero longed for a voice, a sound, something to break the unending torment of isolation.

Keeping his eyes shut, the jester once again tried escaping into his imagination. He thought about better and kinder times. Him and the Listener getting a drink at the Winking Skeever, singing and sharing stories with his brothers and sisters of the Brotherhood,  the warm, securing glow of the fire after escaping the winter chill of Dawnstar, even the deep chastising voice of the Spectral Assassin. A single tear crawled down Cicero's cheek as he reminisced.

"Nothing."

The voice had come out of nowhere, and the Keeper's eyes popped open. He waited a few moments and wondered if he had just imagined it.

"That's the answer to the riddle, right?" the voice asked. "What the poor have and the rich require? The answer is 'nothing'."

Cicero released a shuddering sigh of relief and could not help but smile.

"Clever Finn," he stated quietly. "You finally figured out what I am."

The young Penitus Oculatus had to wait for some time before it had finally been his turn to guard the Keeper. Upon arriving on the scene, his heart sank. The gloomy stone sarcophagus was not fit for any living person. He felt slightly sick to his stomach that the man he had sworn to follow had devised such a horrendous method of mental anguish.

He tried to follow orders, but Finn could only stay silent for so long before his heart got the best of him. He was relieved when Cicero responded so quickly, it meant that the jester had not yet been broken.

"Is Maro seething?" the jester asked. "Please tell me that Cicero has at least managed to make that man's life miserable!"

"I have no idea. The Commander has been with our alchemist all night. No one knows what he's working on."

"Doesn't matter, doesn't matter," he chattered nervously. "Cicero is just grateful to hear your voice. It's been too quiet, too lonely." The jester grimaced as he shifted his body so that he was no longer on his back, but on his side. Finn could not have spoken up at a better time; the horrid dark and quiet were close to making the Keeper crack.

"Tell me, have you made the money you needed for your mother yet?"

Finn stiffened up as he heard the question. He had completely forgotten that he had mentioned his reason for joining Maro's brigade in the first place.

"I've only been here for about a month. Salvarus told me that we were to receive compensation once Commander Maro accomplishes his goals."

The jester could not help but let out a loud bitter laugh.

"Poor Finn! Chose a side that contains all the dangers and none of the benefits! Damn Penitus Ocalutus will follow Maro like sheep! Dumb sheep who can wait forever for a reward that will never come!"

Cicero paused as he realized that his bitterness towards the agents was probably not going to help anyone. Dampening the boy's spirits wouldn't make the Keeper feel better. Finn did not have to speak up or talk to the jester; the kind thing to do would be to try and make Finn feel like he had some worth. No sense in both of them feeling dejected.

"Cicero is sure that Finn will provide well for his mother. You're a good son," he said gently. Cicero then asked a question, as he was naturally curious."Finn doesn't seem the soldier type, what is that you did back in Cyrodiil?"

"We were farmers," the agent answered simply. " Farming has been part of the Phineous family for generations."

The jester could not help but smile. A farm boy pretending to be a soldier, it sounded like something out of a children's book.

"Once it was just my mother and I, we were not able to produce the same amount of crops as we had in the past. I know that with the money I make, I can hire some extra hands that will help save our farm."

"I do love farms," the fool sighed. Cicero imagined great golden fields of wheat, tall stalks of corn and earthy brown soil that would grow crops that were fresh and crisp. He winced as his stomach rumbled angrily. The thought of vegetables made him once again aware of his starvation.


"Poor Cicero is hungry. What I would give for a carrot. Not for information, mind you! A carrot would be just merry though."

Finn reached into his satchel and pulled out a pocket-sized book that showed signs of age and wear.  The cover read 'The Yellow Book of Riddles'.

"Would some brainteasers help take your mind off your pain?" he asked, flipping the book open. "I always carry this book of riddles with me. It was my father's. He gave it to me before…" Finn paused and looked to the side, "before he got sick." The soldier began to flip through the pages. "He used to read this to me when I was younger. It's one of the reason I like riddles so much."

"Hmmm, I never really knew my father. I just followed my own path. Looking back at everything that has happened and took place in my life. If given the choice, I'd do it all again. Exactly the same way." Cicero shut hiseyes as he rolled onto his stomach, resting his head on crossed arms. "Yes, though, Kind Finn. Cicero would love to hear some riddles."
***** ***
Nazir was ahead of the Listener and spirit as they entered the Dawnstar Sanctuary. Once again, KaNack paused as they went past the Night Mother. The Redguard looked at the Argonian sympathetically.

"Did she speak?"

KaNack only shook his head, still staring at the floor. Once again, the Night Mother refused to shed any light as to where the Keeper was being held.

"Well, it sounds like the hawks managed to locate the others. Should I have them gather in the usual meeting place?"

"Yes, Nazir. I will be there shortly."

The assassin continued down the stairwell to gather the other Dark Brotherhood members, leaving the mage and ghost alone.

The Listener grimaced before he made his way over to the Night Mother's crypt and stood before it. The coffin was locked, as it should have been. Cicero never allowed the Night Mother to be exposed unless he was present in the sanctuary to keep an eye on her condition.

Lucien watched KaNack carefully. He could sense that something was building up within the Argonian, and it was not positive.

"I have followed your orders without question," the Listener hissed quietly. "I spread the word of Sithis and built sanctuaries in His name." Looking up, KaNack's stared at the coffin spitefully. "I have willingly sacrificed and lost time with my wife because your priorities always had to come first."

The Argonian got dangerously close to the crypt, his eyes narrowing to slits and his upper lip curled in a snarl.

"My Listener?" Lucien asked quietly.

"What more do you want from me?" the mage growled. "What do I have left for you to take? Do you want my pride?" KaNack growled in disgust.  "Do you want me to grovel like a dog?"

A tremor ran through the Argonian's body. The Spectral Assassin could now clearly see that all the pent up frustration, all the anger and despair, it was about to be released in full force.

"Astrid abandoned her path and betrayed the Brotherhood. What have I done to earn such scorn from you?"

"Do you want me to step down? I'll gladly do so. My best is not enough to pass this test of yours." KaNack's breathing grew rapidly as did his anger. "Speak! Tell me where my friend is. Why should you be silenced forever because of my own inadequacies?" The Argonian's anger diminished and was replaced with despair. "Punish me. What has the Keeper done to deserve such a fate? He has been nothing but devoted to you, even without hearing your voice. If he is as important to you as he is with me, then you will tell me where to find him."

KaNack stopped talking and remained silent as he sadly lowered his head. Lucien let out a sigh of relief; he believed that the rage had passed.  The spirit regrettably had   misjudged his Listener.

The Argonian head slowly began to lift up and he stared at the sarcophagus with pure resentment. KaNack growled in frustration as the Night Mother still refused to speak to him.

"How can you be so selfish?" he asked darkly. "Do you think that by sacrificing your voice and the Keeper that this will give you the same admiration as a martyr?  You're wrong! You are hand feeding Commander Maro exactly what he wants! The Dark Brotherhood will become nothing but a myth, a legend to scare small children.  Haven't enough of us been killed by that brigade?! How much more blood do you need before your greedy gullet is satisfied?!"

KaNack was now screaming at the coffin. "I will not allow you to sacrifice Cicero as though he doesn't matter!" Small tufts of black smoke began to billow from the mage's hands as his fury amplified.

"You would have been NOTHING without him, you festering bitch! NOW TALK!" A powerful finale to his wrath, the Argonian slammed both fists onto the doors of the Night Mother's crypt and an explosion of flame erupted from his hands upon impact.

The mage barely had time to recover from casting his destruction spell. He felt a great force crash into him, slamming him back into the unforgiving stone wall of the sanctuary. There was a loud crack when his horns came into contact with the rock, protecting his soft head from the damaging collision.

The next sensation the mage felt was cold unforgiving steel to his throat. KaNack opened his eyes and found himself braced against the wall by his Spectral Assassin. The spirit's face was fixed in an expression of both revulsion and ferocity as he kept his blade to the Listener.

"Who in Oblivion do you think you are?" Lucien growled menacingly. "Do you think that by being the Listener you are better than the rest of us?!" He gestured towards the Night Mother with his head without breaking his eye-lock with the Argonian. "She is our lady and you WILL treat her with the respect she is owed!" Lucien hand trembled, but his grip on his victim did not falter.

"It does not matter if she allows all of Tamriel to fall!" he shouted. "Her will is law and we must abide by it! I have sent men to their deaths for less than what you have just done! Don't think that because of your position that you will not be punished for your actions!"

Lucien panted furiously as he pulled the mage closer so that their noses were practically touching.

"Apologize," he growled.

"What?"

"Apologize to her! Beg her forgiveness! Grovel and plead until your throat is sore!" The ghost slammed the mage hard once more into the stone wall and swung his blade viciously. KaNack crumbled to the floor now bearing a large cut that went from his jaw line all the way to his brow.

"Know your place, reptile! I don't care if you are the Listener! I don't care if you are the leader of the Black Hand! I will not hesitate to send you to the Void myself if you EVER disrespect the Night Mother like that again!"

Lucien dropped to a knee and was once again in KaNack's face. He was so close that the wisps of vapor that emanated from the Spectral Assassin swayed with every breath the Argonian took.

"Do we understand each other?" the ghost growled.

"Yes," KaNack whispered as he leaned back against the wall, terrified of the spirit before him. "Yes, we understand each other, Buddy."

"Buddy," Lucien sneered as he rose to his feet and sheathed his blade. "My name…" he started with a hiss. " IS LUCIEN LACHANCE!"

As the spirit roared, his name echoed through the halls of the sanctuary as if to emphasize how important it was for the mage to remember the ghost's title.

The Spectral Assassin stared at the Argonian menacingly, and then slowly his face melted into that of concern. The dark blood continued to trickle down the mage's face, and one of his horns had an ugly crack going through it. He had disrespected the Night Mother and tasted the wrath of Sithis.

KaNack made no attempt to heal his injuries. He kept his head low and bore the wounds brought forth by his insolence. He knew he had broken the most important Tenet and did not deserve to heal his abrasions.

"Listener," Lucien started. "I don't know what came over me. You were…"

KaNack held up a hand to silence the spirit, and he shook his head solemnly.

"No. No you were right to do so. We have these Tenets for a reason. If we start making exceptions then we'll be no better than Astrid." The Argonian leaned his head back and winced. The crack in his horn brought forth searing pain as it came into contact with the wall, as gentle as the motion was.

The mage's eyes opened as he heard people running up the steps. Nazir was in the front with two of the initiates behind him.

"You!" Nazir drew his blade and approached the spirit furiously. "What have you done?!"

"Nazir, it's fine!" KaNack shouted as he struggled to get back to his feet. "Leave him be."

"But he…!"

"Leave him be!" the Argonian repeated furiously. Nazir had no choice but to sheath his weapon and not punish the spirit for attacking the Listener. "Go, Nazir. I'll be fine."

The Redguard reluctantly returned back down the stairs with the initiates close behind. They had many questions for Nazir about what had just taken place, but they were not going to get answers anytime soon.

As wrathful as Lucien had been moments before, he was that much more timid now. The spirit could only fold his arms and wait for the Listener to speak to him.

"I let my emotions get the best of me," KaNack sighed as walked past the Spectral Assassin towards the small garden by the stairway. He settled into a chair that had been left by the plot, and released a loud sigh. "It was a moment of weakness, and for that I apologize."The Argonian was exhausted now that he had released all of his frustration in one fell swoop. He paid for it dearly, but it still lifted a huge weight that had been bearing down on him.

Lucien joined the mage at the garden and quietly kept him company. KaNack stared at the spirit weakly.

"I will ask for the Night Mother's forgiveness in due time. I will make amends for my impertinence." The mage touched the large slice on his face with his fingers and glanced at them to see how bad the blood loss was. The cut was frightening, but it had already started to scab over and stop bleeding.  It was a mark he was willing to keep as a reminder of his place.

"I just don't know where else to turn," the Argonian muttered quietly. "We are no closer to finding Cicero than we were before." KaNack stared up at the ceiling as he leaned back into the chair. "Where it all began," he whispered.

"The Night Mother can be a cold mistress at times," Lucien stated as he placed a hand on his Listener's shoulder. "She always does have her reasons. The death of the Brotherhood is not her desire, you must realize that. She has faith in your own abilities. She knows that you are destined to do great things for Sithis and His children. That was why she made you the Listener. You brought the Dark Brotherhood back from the brink of death when you killed the Emperor. Do not abandon hope."

"Killed the Emperor," KaNack mumbled under his breath. Slowly a realization hit the Argonian and his eyes went from the ceiling, back down to Lucien.  "Killed the Emperor," he said again. He stood up and grabbed the Spectral Assassin by the shoulders. "Killed the Emperor! How could I have been so blind?" The Argonian rushed down the stairwell, and the spirit desperately tried to keep up with the mage.

"The beginning! Of course! It makes sense!" KaNack exclaimed as he ran.

"What does?" Lucien cried after him.

The Listener burst into the consultation room of the sanctuary, where Nazir and all the others had been waiting. The Redguard jumped at the mage's sudden appearance.

"KaNack?"

" I know where Cicero is!" he announced. "I was too busy thinking about the obvious answers! Helgen! Falkreath! Dragon Bridge!" He placed his hands on the table as he grew more confident with every breath. "It was not about where my journey started as an assassin, it was about how my life began as the Listener! Where it all began!"

Nazir was only more confused and looked to Babette for answers. The small vampire child did not seem confused or even phased by the mage's sudden burst of realization.

"Where it all began!" KaNack repeated as he slammed a palm on the table. "With my first contract with the Night Mother!" he panted and slowly nodded his head, all had not been lost. "Volunruud!"